


Firefly Fic: Closing Doors

by Goldy, goldy_dollar (Goldy)



Category: Firefly
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:56:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/goldy_dollar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an <b>AU</b>, about a year post-HoG. What if Mal had asked Inara to stay? The BDM never happened. Book is alive, but he's off frolicking on Haven or somesuch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firefly Fic: Closing Doors

**Title** : Closing Doors (1/1)  
 **Disclaimer** : Firefly does not belong to me. This is not intended for profit, blah, blah, blah.  
 **Pairing** : Mal/Inara  
 **Background/Timeline** : This is an **AU** , about a year post-HoG. What if Mal had asked Inara to stay? The BDM never happened. Book is alive, but he's off frolicking on Haven or somesuch.  
 **A/N** : Big thanks to [](http://browncoat-2x2.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://browncoat-2x2.livejournal.com/)**browncoat_2x2** for the warm praise and support. I don’t think I would have been courageous enough to post this without her.  
 **Words** : 5, 757

Mal hadn’t seen Inara for more than a year.

And even if he’d accepted that no job of his would ever go smooth, running into her again was the worst sort of muck-up.

She seemed perfectly tranquil, sitting there prettily in her nightware, waiting for him to break into some rich fancypants mansion and steal his priceless-thingamabob. She was filing her nails, too, barely glancing up after he and Zoe cracked the codes, busting non-too-subtly in with their guns waving.

Of course, seeing her was like running into a brick wall, so maybe backup would have been overkill.

Mal’s mouth opened soundlessly, and Zoe nearly slammed into him. Slowly, Mal lowered his gun.

“What are you doing here?” he managed.

Not that it wasn’t obvious.

Had memorized what Inara looked like, going out to meet clients, and she was surely dressed for one now.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Inara said, rising from her armchair.

“Think it’s pretty obvious,” Mal said, nodding for Zoe to continue their job. “So, you look good. Been working hard?”

“Mal—”

“Simple greeting, Inara,” he said. “Ain’t saying we parted on the best of terms, but there’s no harm in being courteous.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’m doing well.”

“You knew I was gonna be here. How?” Mal said. He heard the lock click on the safe, and Zoe swung it open, going to work on the second one.

“It hasn’t been that long, Mal,” she murmured. “I still recognize your handiwork. You shouldn’t be here.”

He hated when she looked at him that way, with something akin to exasperated affection. She used to look that way, all the time, during those scant few months on Serenity when they actually tried at having something.

“Think I’ve got it,” Zoe said.

Mal gave Inara his best smirk. “Guess we’ll be outta your way, then. Would hate to keep you away from a job.”

“Mal,” she said, hesitating. “Mal—I called security on you about five minutes ago. They’ll be here soon.”

It took a second for it to sink in. He looked up at her, disbelief in his eyes—feeling something like betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If you go now—there’s a backdoor… I can show you.”

Zoe paused, one hand on safe, the other clutching the item. A carved dog, made out of gold.

“No rutting away,” Mal said, finding Inara’s eyes. “Came for that piece of rock, and I ain’t leaving without it.”

Inara bit her lip, looking surprisingly close to tears. “Mal, don’t be stupid. You wouldn’t last a second against Jean-Pierre’s security—”

“Jean-Pierre,” Mal cut in, letting the two r’s roll off his tongue. “Nice name. He know you slipped out of bed for this little adventure?”

“Mal, _go_ ,” Inara continued. “There’s no way to win this. I can’t bail you out if they lock you in jail.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have called the goddamn police in the first place!” Mal snapped.

“I… I had to,” Inara said. “I’m trying to _warn_ you. I couldn’t let you… you’re stealing a man’s property, Mal. It’s not right.”

“Never bothered you before,” Mal said. “Seems I even remember you takin’ part in more’n one heist, not so long ago.”

“Sir,” Zoe hissed warningly, appearing at his elbow.

It sounded like Jean-Pierre’s security team was pounding their collective fists against the door. It wasn’t hard to figure that they’d be surrounded in a manner of seconds.

“ _Damn it_ , Mal!” Inara said. “Why do you always have to walk into these things?”

“Always found a way to walk out of ‘em,” Mal said, pulling out his gun. He grabbed Inara by the elbow, and pushed her none-too-gently in front of him. She twisted her head around to give him a dirty look. “Ladies first.”

“What are you—”

Security finally managed to get the door open, all of them pushing through and pulling their guns out at the same time.

If Mal played his cards right, he’d be escaping with nary a bullet wound, and Jean-Pierre’s golden dog.

“Would be careful with those, boys,” Zoe said, gesturing to where Mal was currently holding Inara hostage. “Boss might not take too kindly to his Companion getting shot.”

“ _Unbelievable_ ,” Inara hissed. “I can’t _believe_ you, Mal—”

“Might not want to be doing the talking at this juncture, darling,” Mal said. He raised his voice and addressed the security team. “You boys heard my first mate. Ain’t looking for trouble, but I will shoot if I get it.”

“Stand down,” the leader said. “They’ve got Mistress Serra. All teams, stand down. No one fire.”

Mal forced a grin. Hadn’t been altogether sure his plan would work, but he certainly hadn’t expected this much cooperation.

“Thank you,” Mal said. “And I’ll be expecting safe passage.”

“Yes, sir,” the leader said. “Whatever we can do to ensure Mistress Serra’s safety.”

_Mistress Serra?_

Inara looked ready to bite his head off, so he wisely chose not to say anything. Instead, he pushed her forward, smirking as the guards parted to let them pass.

Zoe raised her eyebrows as they moved, dog statue tucked safely into her jacket. “Good plan, sir.”

“Oh, yes, brilliant,” Inara said. “Congratulations, you can now add kidnapping to your very long list of crimes!”

“Will you keep your voice down?” Mal said. “Ain’t in the clear yet.”

“And what are you going to do with me once we get away?” Inara said. “They’ll be on you the second you let me go!”

It was only with a touch of reluctance that he said, “Guess you’ll be coming back to Serenity with us, huh?”

**

With hindsight, Mal could admit that kidnapping Inara wasn’t his brightest idea.

“You’ll have the feds on you in hours,” Inara said. “Maybe sooner.”

“Dealt with the Alliance before, Inara,” Mal said shortly, ire rising when she followed him to the bridge. “Wash!” he barked. “We’re gonna have Alliance on our tail in about five minutes time. Need you to make sure that don’t happen.”

“Right,” Wash said, flipping the overhead switches. “Alliance. No problem. I’ll just wave my magic wand and make us invisible.”

Mal clenched his jaw and pointed to the consol. “Could outrun ‘em.”

Wash forced a smile. “That always goes great.” He glanced behind him and straightened. “Oh, hey, Inara! Haven’t seen you around these parts in a while.”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Wash.” Inara said, pleasantly enough, before adding, “Even if this wasn’t entirely my choice.”

Wash sent Mal a questioning look.

“She’s visiting,” Mal explained. “Won’t be here more’n a few days.”

“Maybe sooner, if the Alliance catches up to us,” Inara said dryly. “Mal kidnapped me, you see.”

Wash kept up his forced smile and spoke through his teeth. “And now we’re implicated in abductions.”

“Just… fly the gorram ship,” Mal said. “And we won’t have a problem.” He stomped away, ignoring Inara’s soft smile.

Much to his annoyance, she followed him.

“You should let me take the shuttle back to Persephone,” she said. “You’ll save yourself a lot of trouble.”

“And lose a shuttle?” Mal said. “I don’t think so.”

She sighed. ”Mal, it’s certainly a better idea than the alternative.”

“And what’s that?”

“Going to jail for kidnapping.”

Mal stopped, turning around to face her. “I didn’t kidnap—you _wanted_ me to!”

She blinked and raised her eyebrows. “Yes, that reasoning always holds up in court.”

Mal scowled, and continued into the cargo bay, speaking over his shoulder. “You could’a turned on me at any time, Inara. Didn’t. Walked out of that place of your own accord.” He paused. “Unless you truly thought I would’a shot you.”

“ _Woe duh ma_ , Mal, it was still a stupid thing to do,” she muttered. “It wasn’t my intention to get you thrown in jail.”

“Yeah?” he said. “Could’a fooled me.”

He continued up to the catwalk. Had no business up there, but needed to keep moving.

“But that would have been nothing compared to this!” Inara said. “Stealing is one thing, but they’ll come after Serenity for this, Mal. And the last thing you need is the Alliance finding who you’ve been hiding these last few years.”

“You got no right telling me what to do on my boat, Inara,” he said. “Had trouble with the Alliance before. I can handle it.”

Inara pressed on. “Jean has a tremendous amount of influence on Persephone. He’ll probably come after me himself.”

Mal ground his teeth together. He reached the catwalk and spun back around.

“Do you think he’ll care?” Mal said. “Probably be more upset about his gorram statue than the woman he bought for the night.”

She faltered. “Mal—”

Something caught his eye, and he grabbed her hand, ignoring her gasp. It was a ring. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before. Simple thing. Sitting on her finger. Gold. Glinted under Serenity’s faint lights. Suited her.

Inara pulled her hand back, eyes studying the catwalk.

The fight went out of him. “You got married?”

“I tried to tell you—”

“No, hey, that’s fine,” Mal said. “You got married. Free woman, Inara. Never pretended to have a claim on you.”

She still didn’t look at him.

He backed away. Standing next to her made him want to throw things. Take that piece of _lèsè_ they stole from Jean-Pierre’s mansion and shatter it against the cargo bay doors.

“Made things more’n plain when you left,” he said.

“Mal—”

She reached out to touch him— _touch him_. He looked at her hand on his arm, and then met her eyes. She drew in a breath, silently pleading with him.

“Get your hand off me.”

Inara took a stricken step backwards. “I’m sorry.”

“Be planetside two days time,” Mal said. “Far as I’m concerned, we don’t gotta speak to each other in the interim, _dong ma_?”

She brushed the hair out of her eyes, and swallowed, nodding. “Yes.

“Get you transpo back to your husband soon as we land.”

***

Goal seemed simple enough.

Involved the oldest brew he could find, and getting drunk enough to push Inara out of his mind. Bound to take him a while, the way she was haunting him. It was all sorts of stupid. The woman walked off his boat a full year ago, and she had no right coming back, stomping on whatever they once had.

“Cap’n?”

“Heeeeey, Kaylee,” he slurred. “Want some brew?”

“Nah,” Kaylee said, wrinkling her nose. She pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, peering steadily into his eyes.

“Something you be needing, little Kaylee?” Mal said. “Engine ain’t blowing up?”

“No,” Kaylee said. “Serenity’s running fine.”

Mal wasn’t drunk enough to miss the way she was worrying over him.

“Suppose you’ve been talkin’ to Inara?” Mal said, taking another sip of brew. “Hear she got herself married?”

“Yeah,” Kaylee said, surveying the brew he’d collected. “Cap’n… you gonna be alright?”

“Suuure,” Mal said, waving a hand at her. “Few more sips of this and I’ll be shiny.”

“Don’t think that’ll help, Cap’n,” Kaylee said gently.

“This is some fine good stuff,” Mal said, blinking down into the mug.

“No, it ain’t,” Kaylee said. Her eyebrows furrowed into her sternest expression, and Mal found himself relenting.

He cleared his throat several times. “Inara never even thought about quitting when we was together.”

“Quitting…?” Kaylee said. “Oh—companioning.”

“But she don’t got no problem slipping on the ring of some rich _hundahn_ , promising herself to him.” Mal took another sip of brew. “Was a _chûnrén_ for believing she cared for me.”

“That ain’t fair, Cap’n,” Kaylee said.

“ _Fair_?” Mal said. “Called the feds on me, just ‘cause—”

“‘Cause you was stealing from her husband, Cap’n,” Kaylee pointed out. “Probably would’a done the same.”

Mal glared at her, but Kaylee ignored him, grabbing the tumbler out of his hands.

“Hey!”

“No more drinking,” Kaylee said firmly. “Time for talking.”

“Not as fun as drinking,” Mal grumbled.

Kaylee shook her heads. “Inara did think about giving it up, Cap’n,” she said. “Hardly saw nary a client when you two was together. But you never even gave her the chance, always yelling like you were.”

Mal slowly felt his moral superiority drain away, and he reached for his tumbler, but Kaylee held it out of his grasp.

“And how do you know she don’t care for you?” Kaylee said. “Could try’n talk to her, you know! She ain’t exactly acting like somebody who don’t love you no more!”

“She got _married_ ,” Mal protested and he was mortified to find something stinging the back of his eyes.

Kaylee’s expression softened. She handed the drink back to him. “I know, Cap’n. But I ain’t the one who’s got answers for you.”

***

That was how Mal found himself outside the shuttle. Hardly stepped foot in it since she left. Seemed like Inara had left herself in every corner—bits of burned incense on the floor, broken tea cup under the consol. And the trunk. The trunk she’d left under the bed, that he’d rifled through and then put back, never waving her to tell her she’d left it behind.

It surprised him that she’d gravitate towards it. Wasn’t right, somehow, her going to the shuttle when she was wearing another man’s ring on her finger.

He found her on her knees, rifling through the trunk, pulling out frippery she’d left behind. Time had faded the colour, frayed the sleeves, but they still belonged to her.

She hastily stood up, pulling one of the dresses with her—the old peach one, and it folded in her arms. She looked dismayed to see him, and wiped at her eyes, smudging her makeup.

Hell, he probably looked a worse mess—half drunk as he was, nearly ready to toss his own self out the airlock.

“I thought we were supposed to avoid each other,” Inara whispered. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. Well.” Plan would’ve worked had it not been for Kaylee, interrupting him when he was halfway to getting sloshed. And the lightheadedness did nothing to improve his mood. “Thought we should talk.”

“Talk?”

“Like about how long it took you to walk outta my bed and into somebody else’s. Couldn’t have been long. Married already, as you are.”

Inara’s eyes darkened. “It was a few months.”

“Few months?” Mal said. “Must be true love. Tell me, is he a former client?”

Inara stood up, hugging herself. “Why don’t you just say it, Mal?”

“ _Shenme_?”

“Whore. You’re thinking it,” she said, words tumbling together. “Say it.”

Mal looked away.

“It might make you feel better,” she said. “So, go ahead. Say it. Call me a whore. Nothing stopped you in the past.”

She moved closer to him, breathing into his face.

He wanted to shake her.

He closed his eyes, but could still smell her, that perfume permanently imprinted in his mind.

“Should I be thinking something else?” he finally said. “Seems pretty clear to me. You spread for the man with more money.”

She pulled away, faltering. “ _Tiānna_ , Mal. And you can’t figure out why I left.”

He almost hoped she would hit him. Looked like she might. But she unclenched her fists, slowly regaining her composure. She pushed passed him, dropping her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“I think your first plan was for the best,” she murmured. “It’s better when we don’t speak. I thought things might be different with time. I was wrong.”

He seized on her last bit, following her to the door, getting as close as he dared, close enough so that her hair brushed his cheek. “Wrong about what?”

She jumped, turning around to face him. Her eyes landed on his chest before rising to meet his eyes.

“It seems clear that the only thing we’re good at is hurting each other,” she said softly.

Words came out before he could stop them. “Not true.”

Stupid, pleading with her like this—never was much good at watching her walk away from him. Never quite got used to it.

She shook her head, looking unbearably sad. “It doesn’t matter, Mal. I’m married, even if I…” She tried moving away, and her back thumped against the door.

Mal followed, bracing one hand over her shoulder, silently daring her to push him away. _Do you love him_? Question was hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t reckon he’d like the answer. Could call Inara all the names in the ‘verse he wanted, but didn’t stop him from _knowing_ her. Truth was, she wouldn’t go marrying somebody she didn’t love.

“Even if you what?”

She gave a small moan. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Damnit, Inara,” he said, words coming faster, face nearing hers. “It does matter.”

“You’re drunk,” she whispered.

“Don’t change a thing,” Mal said. “What else was I supposed to do, huh? You got _married_!”

She flinched at his last word, eyes cutting quickly to her wedding band. She looked dangerously close to tears. “Mal—”

“Ain’t like watching you take on clients. Worse than so, ‘cause it means there ain’t no part of you left that belongs to Serenity.” He knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “Always knew it wasn’t worth hoping for, but now—”

Something hit the ship hard enough to have them both stumbling. He grabbed her arm to keep her steady, his other hand braced against the door.

They looked at each other as Serenity settled.

“Guess that’s it, huh?” Mal said.

She touched her lips with her fingertips, and then gave a small nod. “Mal? You’ll have to turn yourself in. I think… I don’t see any other option.”

He pushed her out of the way, and opened the door. “Gonna do what’s best for this crew, Inara.”

***

It always pissed Mal off when people tried blowing holes in his ship. He took the time to curse their pursuers thoroughly before weaving his way to the bridge.

“Wash! What the hell is going on?”

“Under attack, sir,” Zoe said, and _lao tyen yeh_ , she was only half-dressed. Her and Wash both.

“Gorramit!” Mal yelped. “Don’t you got a pair of pants?!”

“I hate to have to be the one to explain this,” Wash said. “But Zoe and I, as two married and grown-up people, have sex on a regular basis. You might as well accept it.”

“But why does it have to be _here_?” Mal demanded as another blast hit the ship, hard enough to make the lights flicker.

“Think Inara’s husband caught up with us,” Wash said, eyes scanning the vidscreen. “They have two ships. One’s Alliance.”

“That’s great,” Mal said tightly. “What do they want?”

Zoe and Wash sent him matching “duh” looks.

Mal rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Ain’t gonna kill us. Options?”

“Doesn’t look good,” Wash said. “Targeted our thrusters first thing. Could maybe float us to the nearest rock, but we’re already looking at a full day’s repair.”

Serenity groaned when she was hit with another flare and Mal grabbed the back of Wash’s chair to keep upright. In the galley, they heard dishes shatter against the counter.

Wash’s vidscreen blinked. “Incoming wave.”

Inara showed up at that moment, wearing one of her dresses—not the peach one, pink, it glittered, made Mal feel dizzy—and walked by without looking at him.

“Let me take the wave, Wash.”

Wash looked at Mal, who sighed and nodded.

Inara took the pilot’s seat and switched on the vidscreen. A frumpy, slightly unshaven and tired man started up at her, shoulders slumping in relief. He had a round face, brown eyes, and a small mouth, drawn into a tight line.

“Inara. Thank God.”

Inara smiled gently. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Are you hurt? We have medics onboard. You’ll be taken care of.”

His voice was squeaky sounding, sharpened by an accent—French, made him sound like a haughty bastard.

“I’m fine,” Inara said. And she was fine. Sounded perfectly calm, sitting prettily on the bridge of Mal’s ship, talking to her haughty-French-husband. “Jean, Captain Reynolds has agreed to turn himself in.”

Zoe and Wash both craned their necks around to look at Mal.

“I never agreed to that!” Mal mouthed.

They shrugged.

Jean-Pierre’s eyes worriedly searched Inara’s face, and pressed one of his fingers against the vidscreen. Inara mimicked the touch.

Mal focused on the stars, trying not to think on it, trying not to think on how this was all going down—Inara’s husband coming after him for kidnapping. It was like slipping into the worst sort of nightmare.

“This isn’t a trap,” Inara said. “By now you’ve scanned the ship. You know you’ve knocked out their main power source.”

She sounded oddly… flat. Mal couldn’t keep from looking back at her, wondering if maybe this was hard for her, too. Might be even more secrets she kept from her husband. Likely that Jean-Pierre knew even less of Inara than Mal did.

Wash leaned over the consol. “She’s right,” he said. And then, “Hi, there.”

“Thank you, Wash,” Inara said tiredly.

Wash backed away, giving Inara a thumb’s up. “Good catch!” he mouthed.

Zoe put a hand on Wash’s arm and squeezed, meeting Mal’s eyes for a half-second.

“Inara?” Jean-Pierre said. “What’s going on?”

“It’s alright,” Inara said, giving him a reassuring smile. “Come get me?”

“Of course,” he said. “We’re locking on to the ship now. Stay safe, boa-bai.”

Inara nodded and witched off the vidsceeen. Silence filled the bridge, the glowing of the consol their only light.

Inara turned around and rose from the pilot chair. “I’m sorry, Mal.”

It took him a moment to find his voice. “Never agreed to this plan, Inara.”

“What did you want me to do?” Inara said. “Let them destroy Serenity? Arrest the entire crew? Hand them Simon and River?”

Mal dumbly shook his head, and jerked around to go back to the cargo bay. Worse things in the world than an Alliance prison, he figured.

“Wait, Mal—” Inara hurried after him, stopping him just outside Kaylee’s bunk.

He turned around. “What is it?”

She looked surprised at the defeat in his voice. She swallowed nervously. “I just—you probably shouldn’t be armed.”

“Oh.”

When he didn’t move, she leaned forward, reaching to unhook the gun from his belt.

“That it, then?” Mal said as she pulled away, slow enough so that he could breathe her in.

“Yes,” Inara said. “He’ll come in through the cargo bay.”

“Well. Shiny,” Mal said. “Been far too long since I did a stint in jail.”

“Captain?” Zoe said, standing on the edge of the bridge. Wash had a hand on her shoulder, but he was silent.

Mal nodded. “Stay clear. Rest of you ain’t implicated in this. Zoe, ship is yours.”

“Don’t worry, Mal,” Wash yelled after him. “We’ll come up with some harebrained scheme to rescue you!”

“You stay clear!” Mal yelled over his shoulder.

“Whatever you say, sir!”

“ _Tyan-sah_ ,” Mal said, “like orders go in one ear and out the other.”

Inara didn’t smile. Mal didn’t know what her trouble was. Won, hadn’t she? Had herself a new husband, and now she was putting him away in the brig. Probably a damn fine day in her book.

In the cargo bay, Mal raised his hands over his head, sending Inara a half-smirk to tell her he was playing along. She avoided his eyes, and hit the button to open the doors.

Alliance’s finest poured in first, all of them wearing their gas masks and shields. He hadn’t realized he warranted such a reception.

“It’s okay, boys,” Mal said. “I promise to come quietly.”

In response, they cocked their guns, hurriedly securing the perimeter around the cargo bay. Mal sighed, and shuffled his feet, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Inara!”

Mal’s head snapped up. Jean-Pierre pushed his way passed the Alliance shoulders, hands gripping his tie, only unclenching when he found Inara.

“Oh god, you’re okay,” he whispered, sweeping her up in his arms, one of his hands cradling the back of her head.

Mal knew the wise thing to do would be to look elsewhere. Course, he’d never been particularly good at following the wise path.

All the same, he didn’t figure there was a torture worse than this—watching Inara’s husband hold her close, kissing her forehead, nose, whispering intimate phrases against her lips.

Jean-Pierre looked up from his embrace, eyes wet, and meeting Mal’s gaze from across the room. He kissed Inara one last time on the top of his head, and stepped away from her.

“Take him. Then search the ship. Question the crew. We’ll have this ship melted and scrapped in no time.”

“Jean,” Inara said warningly. “There’s no need to—the Captain said he would—”

Jean-Pierre spun around. “You’re defending them? Inara, this man stole from me, he pointed a gun at you…” He trailed off, dropping his voice. “What is it, Inara? What are you hiding from me?”

Inara blinked and looked away. “I just—they’re not bad people.”

“And, anyway,” Mal said loudly. “My ship ain’t an option. I’ll go quietly enough my own self, but you try’n mess with any member of my crew and you’ll have a problem.”

Not that he had a plan.

Or… options.

Minor details. He felt mad enough to spit bullets out of his own damn mouth, and he could swear he’d seen Zoe do it on more than one occasion.

Jean-Pierre raised his eyebrows, and took a few steps forward, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. “Maybe you should have thought about the consequences before kidnapping my wife, Captain.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mal said. “I can show you consequences—”

He had one fist clenched, and had taken two steps forward when something clubbed him on the back of the neck. And it _hurt_. He bit down on his bottom lip, bits of blood dribbling down his chin. He barely managed to get his hands out fast enough to break his fall before his knees slammed down on the hard metal floor.

He groaned, and looked up. Inara moved forward a few inches, face paling. She shook her head, eyes holding a warning.

They hauled him up again, guns pressing against his backside. For a second, Mal reckoned he might pass out, but he shook his head and the dizziness faded.

Jean-Pierre looked a little queasy, but he drew in a breath and puffed out his chest. “I would try the ‘going quietly’ plan, Captain.”

“Just so long as I don’t gotta share a jail cell,” Mal said, spitting out blood on the shoes of the nearest Alliance officer. “Not so much a people person.”

***

He did get his own cell.

A tiny cramped thing, down in the bowels of the ship, with only a bunk and a toilet to keep him company. It was Alliance property, no doubt about it. He and Zoe had been stuck in something similar following Serenity Valley.

After throwing up the contents of his stomach, he laid down on the bunk, passing in and out of consciousness. He listened to the hum of the ship, trying to get a sense of what was happening. Zoe would never let them take Serenity, Mal was sure of it. But Kaylee… and there was Simon and River to consider…

His crew had worked miracles before. Rescued him from Niska, and Mal knew they could do anything after that.

It wasn’t fair to them. The last year, he’d only been with them halfway, doing all the right things only because he had to. But he’d be the biggest pile of _hwai_ in the ‘verse if he left them now.

Mal didn’t know how long it was before Inara opened the cell and slipped inside. He thought he was dreaming her. She was all done up in a dress he’d never seen before, hair piled on her head, whips escaping down to frame her face.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, and her voice was thick. “We have time. Here, drink this. It will help.”

She pressed a damp washcloth to his forehead, his neck. Her fingers gently caressed his cheek.

He was more coherent than she thought, but he didn’t say anything. Talking would ruin it—remind them both that she was married, that this was only a small beep in time.

***

When he woke up again, Inara was sitting on the floor, cheek pressed against the bed frame, her eyes closed.

Mal rolled his shoulders back and forth. He felt… better, clearer. There was still a dull ache in the back of his head, but his mind had sorted itself out.

He sat up, reaching out to touch Inara on the shoulder. She jerked awake, her eyes flying open with a shocked squeak.

He tried to smile, but it came out flat. “Suppose I should thank you,” he said. “Must’ve worked some sort of magic to get rid of that headache.”

There was an accusation in his voice, and she looked away, standing with difficulty. “We should get you back to the ship,” she said. “I gave us a few hours, but…”

“What did you do, Inara?” he said. “Drug him? Sleep with him and then drug him?”

She didn’t answer, but the look on her face was answer enough.

“He’ll want to go after you again after he wakes up, but you should be out of the quadrant by then. Kaylee’s made the repairs.”

“She has, huh?” Mal said. “Just how long was I out?”

“Long enough,” Inara said simply.

Her steps were measured, and he followed her out of the cell, along the bowels of the ship.

“You know, that’s one hell of a ring you got on your finger,” Mal said. “Must’ve cost Johnny there a fortune.”

“Well, he is rich,” Inara said.

“And that accent,” Mal said. “Sounds like a pretentious _huhn dahn_ , speaking with his nose up in the air. When he’s not busy peeing on himself from nerves, that is.”

“Some call it class,” Inara said. “Something, I am sure, you’re not familiar with.”

“Might be we have a different interpretation of the word ‘class.’”

“I’m certain that’s true,” Inara said.

Jean-Pierre’s boat was too white, too clean, and he could see himself in the reflection as he walked along. Too sterile.

Inara would hate it.

He glanced at her, already feeling bad for snapping at her earlier. She was putting herself on the line, helping him like this. And he _had_ kidnapped her in the first place. Now she’d be left trying to explain to her husband why she’d let him and his escape.

She noticed his look, and gave a small smile. “You should know, I didn’t give up my job for him.”

“Oh?” Mal said.

“The Guild fired me,” she continued. “They heard about some of my more… unsavoury adventures.”

Mal felt like she’d kicked him. “The thieving.”

“Hmm,” Inara said. “The Guild is many things, but they don’t generally go out of their way to protect criminals.”

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s not your fault, Mal,” she said gently. “It was my choice. But it was a difficult position for me. Jean-Pierre’s an old friend of the family. If it hadn’t been for him, I…”

Her voice quivered, and Mal stopped her, hands finding her shoulders. She looked at him, so close, forehead level with her chin.

“You should’a contacted me,” Mal said.

“So you could’ve done what?” she whispered. “Hold it over my head? Sweep in and rescue me?”

He nodded, one of his hands cupping her neck, fingers sliding under her chin. “Well… yeah. Both of ‘em.”

She shook her head, eyes filling. “I couldn’t, Mal. We didn’t… we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

“So you got married,” Mal said.

He slowly released her, taking a step backwards. She dropped her gaze to the floor, and hugged herself.

“It didn’t happen overnight,” Inara whispered. “He’s good, Mal. He has a steady job, and he takes me out to dinner, and he always gives one-quarter of his paycheck to charity. Is it so wrong? Wanting a stable life?”

“That ain’t a _life_ ,” Mal said. “That’s a gorram lie.”

“Why?” Inara said. “Because it doesn’t involve morally righteous petty theft?”

“Cause it ain’t who you are!” He stopped, breathing hard, and then continued. “Come back with me.”

She looked up at him. “What?”

“To Serenity,” he said. He felt a burning in his eyes, and he knew he was pleading. And he didn’t give a damn. “He doesn’t even _know_ you, Inara.”

She rubbed her arm. “Mal, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I made a commitment,” she said. “It might not last forever, but I won’t—I can’t run away.”

“Seems like that’s what you’re best at,” he spat, moving on ahead of her.

They walked on in silence. Jean-Pierre’s ship was steady—steadier than Serenity. Mal could hardly feel the turn of the engine. The boat was solid, built with the finest things money had to offer.

Mal slowed down to let Inara catch up. He didn’t look at her, but her arm almost-not-quite brushed his.

“I’m always just a wave away,” he finally said. “You know, if you’re ever needing something. Reckon I’ve wracked up a long debt on this venture.” He scratched the back of his neck, and settled on honesty, “It’ll be a damn long time before I’ll be getting over you, Inara.”

She laughed, a little brokenly, and wiped at her eyes. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad to hear that.”

This time he _did_ turn to look at her. “Yeah?”

She shrugged. “Whatever else you might call what we have, it’s… very intense.”

“Intense, huh?” Mal said.

“Yes,” Inara said, stopping him. “And thank you, Mal. I’ll keep that wave in mind.”

There was something like hope on her face. Made her seem about as beautiful as he’d ever seen her. He managed a nod, and a vague wave in the direction of his ship.

“Guess Johnny’s about as interestin’ as a moldy slab of protein, then?”

“Don’t start.” She hesitated and then reached out a hand. “Why don’t we go the rest of the way in silence?”

He glanced from her face to her pro-offered hand, suddenly not trusting his ability to speak. So he nodded, and let his fingers entwine with hers—even if it was just for the short walk back to Serenity.


End file.
